


Scribblings from Tumblr

by varjohaltija



Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, tumblr migration
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-08
Updated: 2018-12-10
Packaged: 2019-09-14 06:00:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 2,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16907439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/varjohaltija/pseuds/varjohaltija
Summary: In the wake of Tumblr doing stupid-ass decisions, which I unfortunately cannot elect to ignore, I decided to move some stuff here. WIPEvery chapter is an independent blurt.This really is what it says in the tin - just random things, nothing fancy.  I may or may not have fixed the most terrible spelling mistakes. I'm progressing from newer things to the older scribbles.





	1. Sneaking

His neighbours might not believe it, but Clint was great at stealth. So okay, he could also trip over for no apparent reason, walk to the solid objects in alarming rate and fall from places nobody was even supposed climb onto. But lets be fair, the times he was awesome way compensated all that.

And now he was being awesomest of all, sneaking soundlessly closer to his unassuming target.

The task was ambitious. The mark was known for his alertness and skills. Some people said he was an android with chemosensors and heat detection capabilities. Clint knew he was just a man. Very, very suspicious and well trained, but still, just a man.

Clint was now close enough, surging towards the man. Mission accompl—

He managed to press his lips onto Phil’s cheek and then the gravity went all wrong.

“Did I surprise you?” he panted, facing the kitchen floor. His shoulder was protesting from the way his hand was bent behind his back. Ow. But so worth it.

“Hrmpf,” Phil said, letting go and helping Clint turn over.

Phil stayed there kneeling and slowly the scowl on his face turned into a smile, that softened his features and made Clint feel all fuzzy inside.

“Okay. You got me,” Phil sighed, not quite rolling his eyes. “You should be careful. I could have had a knife, you know. And I’d hate to hurt you, you dork,” he continued, and bent down to give Clint a proper kiss.


	2. The Best Thing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Highschool AU.

“I wonder which one you are,” Phil mumbled against Clint’s lips. Their attempt to study together had turned into a slow makeout session maybe an hour ago and they were laying on Phil’s bed, abandoned books scattered around them.

Clint pulled back a bit and raised a questioning eyebrow.

Phil leaned closer, smiling dopily “You know there is this saying that all the best things are either illegal, immoral or fattening,” he brushed the corner of Clint’s mouth with his lips. “So I was wondering…” he paused to pull Clint’s lower lip with his teeth “…which one you are - illegal or immoral, because fattening you definitely are not.” He took a fake bite of Clint’s cheek and continued peppering tiny nibbly kisses on his jaw and down his neck.

Clint chuckled. His boyfriend was adorable. Suddenly, he got a wicked idea.

”Wanna try a hat trick?” He asked, already rising and pulling Phil with him.

And that’s how Phil ended licking chocolate sauce off of his boyfriend’s cock on the back row seat during movie matinée. Turns out, the best things can be all the three at once.


	3. Cold

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a bit sad. Sorry. It definitely needs a fix-it.

Clint wants to sleep. He shouldn’t. He will not. He’ll just rest for a while… Snow is soft and it’s nice to be able to lie down. He closes his eyes. Maybe he could take a nap.

He feels warm, although his hands and feet have been numb for ages. He knows it’s really bad when your sense of temperature flips. He can’t bring himself to care - and that’s really bad too. Or something. He is just happy that violent shivering has stopped. And he’s so very very tired, thorough exhaustion flooding over him.

He should get up, move, try and find shelter, get warm. But there is nowhere to go on this tundra. Even if he had a way to make fire, there is nothing to burn. And he just doesn’t want to leave this cosy pile of snow. Maybe he should have let himself be captured by those Hydra goons. He’d now be on his way somewhere to be tortured. This is better. So much better. It’s comfortable here. Nice.

Snow falls on top of him, fluffy white blanket of frozen water. Somehow idea appeals to Clint. He’ll die under a beautiful, shining cover and it’s really quite fine. It’s okay to go now. He’s had a good life. He has saved lives, made a world a better place. There aren’t many things anymore that he regrets. Mostly stuff that he didn’t do. He can let go.

Last thing he thinks is that Coulson will be so fucking pissed at him. And that it’s such a pity he never kissed the guy.

He lets the sleep come.


	4. False Impressions

 

It would be obvious how this goes - Coulson is being impeccable and Clint is being… Clint.

But how about by the accumulation of improbable coincidences it happens that the three or four first times Phil runs into his new, hot (not that he ogles) landlord, he is a total mess. First time coming from the operation and looking like he's been dragged around by a rabid werewolf (close… it was a wererabbit. Those fuckers are maybe small but quick and feisty) and next times having been a subject to Jasper’s adolescent prank, then after trying - unsuccesfully - to fix his leaking pipe… etc.

And during these encounters Clint looks like an actual mature human being: he has just come or is going to some Avengers' fancy schmancy occasion etc… and he also happens to be slightly more mentally coherent than normally.

So they both get this slightly untruthful picture of each other.

Phil talks to other neighbors (or Kate, when he runs into her) about Clint… no particular reason and he definitely isn’t interested… _(Yeah, right. Keep lying to yourself Coulson)_ and says he finds it reassuring that landlord appears so immaculate. They look at him funny… “You are talking about Barton?”

Truthfully, what really made Phil interested was the tiny glimpse of the human disaster zone he got (not that he knows it yet). How suddenly the so far slightly intimidating and unreachable landlord seemed lost and confused… soft, someone who Phil wanted to take home and wrap into blankets.

He is mortified of the impression he has given… Barton must think of him as such a weirdo. Although it seemed like Barton actually tried to flirt with him…? Maybe he has a thing for hot messes? Why else would he flirt with a bland, balding old man? Oh dear, he is going to be so disappointed to find out how boring and ordinary Phil is.

Actually, Clint is intrigued. His new tenant is mouth-wateringly handsome and under all the adorable weirdness and apparent accident-proneness (and hey, Clint can so sympathise with that) there had been this air of competence that Clint definitely wants to know more about. Clint hadn’t missed the way the man had looked at him… and had been happy to have been at his very best. Way to go Barton. Only that… ugh… the man will be really disappointed to find out what kind of hot mess Clint really is…


	5. Jurassic SHIELD

Clint disappears almost instantly after the Quinjet lands. Phil doesn’t get too bothered by that - Clint probably just needs some fresh air. The archer had been uncharacteristically restless ever since they had taken off. Usually Clint would spend this kind of free time dozing off, but now he had been fidgety and driving everybody else crazy too. Phil though it was maybe because May hadn’t let him anywhere near the cockpit no matter how many times Clint had promised he wasn’t going to try any stunts this time. 

It’s only after an hour, when they are starting a final mission debrief, and Clint isn’t anywhere to be seen, that Phil begins to worry. Before he gets too agitated though, Natasha shoves a colourful ‘Jurassic World' -leaflet onto his hand: 

“You are so screwed” she says and only a slight twitch in the corner of her mouth reveals that she is highly amused.

Phil takes a look at the leaflet and sighs. He knows where Clint is, alright.

“Do you need backup?” asks Natasha innocently. Phil doesn’t miss her almost-smirk, but the rest of the team obviously does, because they are swarming now around him.

“Is there something a matter? Why do you need backup for? Has something happened? Can we help?” 

Only ones not fussing are May and Natasha, and after Natasha shows the leaflet to May, they both look like the cats that ate the proverbial bird.

Phil appreciates that the team is so tight-knit and willing to jump to his help, but there is stuff that man has to deal  by himself.

“It’s fine. I have everything under control.” 

Phil pretends he doesn’t hear May and Natasha snort.

—-

It takes Phil half an hour to get to the dino petting zoo where Clint probably had dashed like he was a some sort of baby animal -seeking missile. 

And there is Clint, totally immersed in scratching  a tiny hadrosaurus and cooing to it. He’s covered in slobber but doesn’t seem to mind. Baby dinosaur appears totally smitten with the archer, too.

“I see you found yourself a friend.”

Clint turns to Phil, eyes sparkling and smiling from ear to ear.

“Edwin is really smart. I swear he understands everything I say.”

Edwin - because of course Clint named it already- snuggles its head against Clint’s side and looks for all the world like it’s going to purr. Clint practically beams. It _is_  endearing, but Phil bites back a smile that is trying to fight its way onto his own face. He knows where this is heading and he needs to be firm now.

“No. You can’t keep him.”

The way Clint’s face falls is making Phil feel like a dick, but he shakes his head and presses his lips into a tight line. He can do this. He is not going to give in.

They already have a pet: the dog that steals his pizza and prefers to sleep on his side of the bed. There are neighborhood cats who, for some strange reason, seem to expect that anyone stepping out of their door is bound to give them treats. Clint doesn’t let Phil even chase away the pigeons that are roosting on their balcony. And then there are those teenagers Clint keeps on adopting. It’s not that Phil doesn’t like animals and his weird extented family - at least latest addition, Maximoff twins, are behaving, and hardly ever blow things into smithereens, unlike certain young ladies - but the freaking  _dinosaur_  is way too much. Like, how big will that thing be when it’s an adult, anyway? Nope.

“But Phiiiiiiiiiiiiiil… Edwin is so cute and he can already sit on command. Lets show him, Edwin! Sit!”

Hadrosaurus part slides, part falls onto its rump in an instant and Clint showers it with praise.

Phil is admittedly impressed, but soldiers on.

“Clint. No. It–  Edwin is going to weight  _tons_. He cannot live on Manhattan.”

Both Edwin the Hadrosaurus and Clint look at him with huge, sad eyes  _(how were reptiles even capable of such puppy eyes?)_  like it was somehow  _Phil’s_  fault Edwin is genetically predetermined to become a size of a bus. And then the damn creature, obviously sensing Clint’s distress, lets out a tiny, most heartbreakingly melancholic  _chirp_  Phil has ever heard.

Incredibly unfair. He is only trying not to be a total pushover … and somehow he ends up being the bastard who makes baby dinosaurs sob.

“Fine. I will ask Bruce and Simmons if there is something they can do about it.”


	6. Clint no

No, no he wouldn’t. He holds Cap on pedestal. But Clint  _totally_  will. And gives them to Phil as a present. 

“For your Cap collection, babe. Genuine article.” 

“Clint, you can’t steal underwear. And definitely NO, you are not wearing them in bed! Put them away! And that Cap helmet too! That’s not hot, it’s disturbing! What would you think if I… if I dressed up as  _your_  childhood hero? You want to see me in Robin Hood outfit? Wait… what? You  _do_?”

–

Phil tries to sneak the underwear back to Cap’s quarters (because he can’t keep them and putting them into trash feels like burning the flag) and gets caught, because somebody somewhere obviously hates him. Dying of mortification is a real possibility here.


	7. The Perks of Being a Team Doctor

__

 

_I’m a professional, I can be cool about this_ … Jemma tries not to stare at specialist Barton as he's packing his gear, moving with a liquid grace and bending to take something from the floor… 

_Coulson’s been tapping that! With enough enthusiasm to cause a penile fracture!_  Her traitorous brain isn’t making things easy. She bites down a nervous giggle ( _there is nothing funny in such a painful injury_ , she scolds herself), tears her gaze away and starts doing an inventory of the… of the whatever there is in that cupboard… which turns out to be water filters, but just as well. One of the packages slips and falls. Barton lifts it up and gives it to her. 

She finds herself staring again, this time the large, calloused hands that make the big package look suddenly quite tiny. She really can’t help imagining those strong, knobbly fingers pressing onto Coulson’s hips with a bruising force… and she forgets to breath. 

Barton lets out a small questioning sound, and with a sharp intake of breath, Jemma hastily lifts her eyes, to meet raised eyebrows and a warm, confused smile. She flushes and… and fuck her stupid brain, but now she imagines that mouth kissing it’s way down the side of Coulson’s neck and biting down… She has to close her eyes. 

“Everything OK?” Barton sounds worried.

Her face is burning now all the way up to her hairline. “Ummm, I’m fine, fine… I need some... tea. Yes. Tea. A cuppa would be wonderful. You want some? I will get you --- Earl Grey is good? Good. Goodgoodgood. Will bring you some too, Sir!” She babbles to the general direction of Coulson while snatching the package from Barton’s hands and starting to the door “Gonna go now, just a sex, no, sec. Bugger.” Jemma practically runs out of the lab.

Barton frowns and shrugs as he looks at Coulson across the room. “Don’t get me wrong, Phil, she seems really smart, but she’s also hella weird. Or maybe it’s just some British thing?”


	8. Dessert First

 

“Hi Director! Ready to go home with me?”

Clint steps into Phil's office, takes a look at Phil’s trashcan and tisks.  
“You’ve been eating all kinds of shit again, haven’t you? Fuck babe, you are so damn stressed already, there is no point in punishing your body even more.” He tries to get some actual scold into his voice, but effect is somewhat diminished by the fond smile that is forcing itself on his lips. And how could he not smile, seeing his husband first time in weeks?

“That’s quite rich coming from the man, who conditioned a dog to prefer pizza over sausage.” Phil steps into Clint’s space and gives him a quick kiss, grabbing a tight hold of Clint’s t-shirt, pulling him close and nuzzling into the hollow of Clint’s neck.   
“Maybe I wouldn’t eat so much candy if I had you here to devour instead,” he mumbles, and bites gently down to the ropey muscle, immediately soothing it with a kiss.

Clint shudders and turns his neck for Phil to have more room and almost yelps as Phil unexpectedly spins them around and starts moving them towards the bed, still nibbling at his neck.

“I have dinner waiting. We could first ---- ” All Clint’s higher brain functions come to standstill as Phil slots their legs together and grinds his hips against Clint, hard and hot even through the thick fabric of his slacks. Clint’s knees buckle a bit and he gasps.

Phil just hums, satisfied, and Clint can feel him grinning against his skin. Smug bastard. _His_ smug bastard.

“Oh well, I guess we could have the dessert first.”


End file.
